


do not go gentle into that good night

by tabloidsuperjunkie (orphan_account)



Series: Fangs [1]
Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Character Turned Into Vampire, M/M, Vampire Turning, a little platonic here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-18 23:28:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12398451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/tabloidsuperjunkie
Summary: “Don’t talk to me as if I were a 5 year-old. You may lack the ability to relate to this, but I’m a grown man among humans,vampire.”





	do not go gentle into that good night

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from a poem of the same title, written by Dylan Thomas (1951).

**_The rage consumed the heart_ , **and what once seemed to be a mere spark had turned ablaze. The flame. The distinct smell in the air. The night thickened, vast darkness veiling the canvas kept the secret of tomorrow from naked eyes.

Seungri fully understood what he was capable of doing and what he was not, and the heat rising from the rage-fueled, burning heart was his mere guess. The tips of his fingers dug deep and deeper into the bare arm, yet it was only the sickeningly familiar icy sensation inhabiting only the areas where the skins met. Loosening his grip, the hand trailed the curvature of muscles forming the arm upwards. Palm pressed firmly against the naked shoulder and lazily, he dragged it down to the left of the chest. His eyes didn’t fail to follow the patches of skin his hand had been touching; the sun-kissed skin presented a distinct glimmer of bronze.

During the hundreds of years walking on earth, Seungri had learnt how thin the curtain between love and hate was. And oh how upsetting it was for him to admit that the envy inhabiting the hollowness inside his chest only grew and grew in each passing second.

Heart thudding, one beat follow another in a steady fast pace. Seungri could hear it clearly and the sound immediately reminded him of the lanky, black drummer boy who somewhat became his friend during his escapade to Arkansas – the only human who made his brief stay amidst the heavy casualties the Civil War caused a little more bearable (he picked the wrong place and the wrong date to visit North America; a pure bad luck). Naturally, the fragments of bloody battlefield and limbless bodies splashed before his eyes once the familiar noise of war drums ringing in his hears, the rhythm matched the beating heart.

 _It is_ , Seungri heaved a quiet sigh and the silence engulfing them remains static, undisrupted. _It is the war drum, beating inside his chest._ His stare moved upwards, meeting the two droplets of Apache tears gleaming like the tar-black darkness outside the chamber. _Tomorrow… it’s a war_. Except that it wouldn’t be _his_ war, and Seungri was fully aware of that. But he, the man standing before Seungri had cornered him until he had nowhere to run to.

Something tickled Seungri’s nose, a new scent sneaking the air laden with tension. Before he could even notice it, his body reacted instinctively. And before he could regain the little bit of what was remained in his composure, the air had filled his lungs, entering also from his parted lips. His hand fell to his side, fingers digging into his palm.

 _One, two, three, four…_ Seungri started counting inside his head, trying to reach ten, because only when he counted ten could he always reclaim his rationality. _Seven, eight_ … The sting of pain inside his palm didn’t manage to distract him.

“You want it,” the other figure cut in through the struggle. “Admit it; you need it.” His voice was thick with the emotion Seungri had assumed as rage since the day they met for the first time. He sounded almost like a siren, singing in a sultry, seductive voice. It was dangerous, yet it was also a temptation any human couldn't refuse.

Which was why Seungri still couldn’t fully comprehend why they eventually ended up in his chamber late at night, lingering in the silent darkness with only one purpose in mind. Sure, he was a human, yet he was a human _once_ still and it was during those days when electricity was a privilege only for the rich and nobody had ever dreamt of flying.

“And I need _you_ ,” the man, standing still, emphasized in nothing but a hushed (and sweet, dangerous) voice.

The new scent was still there but it was no longer a distraction to Seungri, who finally uncurled the fist. The sting of pain in his palm had eventually dissipated; when he raised his hand to give the last check, his nails had returned to their initial length and were no longer bent. They were no longer _pointy_ and _sharp_ – like claws. His tongue traced his teeth carefully; the sign of fangs was no longer there.

“When was the last time you tasted the fresh blood, Seungri?”

“Jiyong, I—”

“We’ve agreed to do _this_ , Seungri,” the other man hissed. “You’ve _agreed_.”

“But are y—”

Jiyong’s facial muscles tightened and from the gritted teeth, the man muttered, “For the fucking gazillion times: yes.”

Inside the dark pools of Jiyong’s eyes, Seungri imagined himself seeing a blaze of flame, threatening to burn him into ashes. _If only stare could kill_ , he let out another long sigh, _it would make my life a lot easier_. “Vengeance isn’t always the answer, Jiyong,” turning around, Seungri took careful steps towards the empty chair nesting next to the window – his reflection was like a ghost haunting the vibrant life of sparkling city lights below. Hands resting on the armrest, fingers tapping out a beat on the cool wooden surface.

Jiyong didn’t bother concealing his mocking scoff. “Save that bullshit for someone else. And you just said it yourself,” the mocking tone was even more obvious as the man continued, “‘Vengeance isn’t _always_ the answer.’ And for _this_ particular problem, we both know really well that it’s an exception to your wisdom, Seungri.”

There was a song playing inside Seungri’s head he couldn’t recall what the title is; it was probably one of those he picked up unconsciously while walking down the alleys of Harlem – one of the best years in Seungri’s immortal life. “You can get killed.”

This time, the scoff had grown into a loud laugh – the glint inside Jiyong’s dark eyes didn’t quite reflect the supposedly expression of amusement, though. “Don’t talk to me as if I were a 5 year-old. You may lack the ability to relate to this, but I’m a grown man among humans, _vampire_.”

Seungri could feel the slight twitch at the corner of his lips, yet he chose to remain silent. He knew he was stalling, and he was fully aware of how the flame burning Jiyong’s heart grew only hotter in every passing second, fueling the fury and burning down the last strand that kept him tied to the world of mortals.

Turning was a concept no longer foreign to Seungri; every living vampire as old as him probably had turned at least one human or two, and Seungri had had enough of his share back in the day. However, he had been living in peace for the past century – contrary to the majority of vampire population, he found no thrill or joy in feasting on the dying bodies scattered amidst the remnants of battleground. Rather, half the century spent amidst the mortals who faced death in every second had helped him find the last pieces of humanity he could find in him. It did come with great consequences, of course. It had been so long, even in vampire standard, since the last time he had his fresh blood, before switching to boxed blood.

He had been living like a human – _or trying to live like one_ , the voice inside his head reminded Seungri. Bitterly – and there were those moments, Seungri had to ruefully admit, in which he build an illusion that he was indeed a human… a delusion that shattered into pieces the very next second after realizing the weaknesses his turning had made him, a delusion that transformed his chamber into a deep and dark pit where he remained unfound after the fall.

Then, Jiyong came like a gust of wind that brought nothing but devastation to whoever getting in its way. And this time, Seungri was the one standing in the way as the man rampaged. He took the fatal blow exactly from the day they met when Jiyong, without any doubt in his voice, asked Seungri to turn him.

A touch on his knee diverted Seungri’s eyes from the night life scenery outside. When he found Jiyong’s wrath-fueled fire, he also found the man kneeling before him. The fingers clutched his knee, tightly and desperately. Near the window where the city lamps crept into the dark bedroom, Jiyong’s bronze skin shone and Seungri saw a hint of crimson on the left of the naked chest. _I’ll be damned_ , Seungri gulped down the small lump inside his throat once the scent of fresh blood teased him.

“By turning me,” Jiyong’s voice was quiet and calm, although his determination was still present there, “you’ll free me from being a pet. You’ll free yourself from the responsibilities of a maker.” The grip on Seungri’s knee tightened. “By turning me, you’ll help me avenge the death of my family. And if I’d have to die on the road to my vengeance, then it means that you won’t meet me again for the rest of your life.”

They locked eyes. The loud silence was slowly built around the two silhouettes, unmoved. Seungri’s mind was a mess of unorganized thoughts and feelings, mixed as one creating a repulsive taste melting in his buds. But Jiyong was like a rocky cliff standing strong and proud, and Seungri felt like the waves crashing the nature-made construction – whatever argument he tried to make, it would shatter into peaces before Jiyong’s determination.

“Bed,” Seungri murmured under his breath.

Jiyong blinked and confusion, for a moment, replaced the fire behind his obsidian orbs.

“Don’t worry, I’m not trying to make you do anything… weird.” Seungri slightly tilted his head to the side. “There will be blood and I don’t want to ruin the carpet. And even if the bed sheet wouldn’t be enough to absorb your blood, the mattress will do.” _And I can spend another $2,000 for a new mattress. Yeah, sure. What’s the point of living as an immortal being if you can’t even work your ass off for centuries?_ Seungri made a mental note to immediately place his order right after they completed the ritual, or even move to a new place – probably one with two bedrooms if there would be more people begging him to turn them after Jiyong.

Jiyong, on the other hand, still hadn’t moved an inch. Seungri was about to open his mouth when the man finally raised his body. His stare lingered for a while; when Seungri gestured him to go to his bed, Jiyong finally turned around and strode quite cautiously.

“Lie down. Make yourself comfortable,” Seungri instructed, still sitting on his chair. His head turned sideways, acting as if he was still staring at the view when he actually was observing the other figure from the corner of his eyes. “It’ll take a while and you’ll probably fall asleep once we’re done.”

There was no squaky noise when Jiyong sat on the edge of the bed – Seungri might be frugal, which was the reason why he rented this tiny apartment, but he was not a savage and his wooden bed and mattress were probably the most expensive stuffs he owned. There was a quiet sound when Jiyong moved, though, but it was nothing more than the noise caused by a friction between fabric and skin. Silence followed and Seungri, still quietly eyeing the man, remained on his chair. He counted to ten in his head then raised his body off the chair, approaching the bed.

He walked around his bed, going to the opposite side. Only then did he realized the shirt he was still wearing – worse, his _favorite_ shirt. A heavy sigh brushed his lips when his fingers started to undo the buttons. His eyes accidentally met Jiyong’s when he was halfway done and Seungri grunted, “I’ve told you, I wouldn’t make you do anything weird. Besides,” the fabric slipped off his shoulder once the buttons were all undone, “it’s my favorite and blood stain would be the last thing I want to see.”

“Yeah…” Jiyong, throwing his gaze and now staring at the empty ceiling, hummed.

Seungri tossed the shirt, as far away as possible from the bed, and stole a last glance at the man he was about to turn into a vampire. Like him. Jiyong’s eyes wavered and the vampire could hear the rising heartbeat. He couldn’t relate to whatever feeling Jiyong was probably experiencing, though, because he didn’t become a vampire _voluntarily_ – heck, Jiyong was most likely the only human who literally came to a vampire and asked to be bitten.

Carefully, he seated himself on the bed next to Jiyong, his legs straight. Using his arms to prop himself up, he looked down and opened his mouth as calmly as he could. “You know all the myths about us, vampire, if not most of them.” Jiyong’s head slightly nodded and Seungri continued. “The truth is, we couldn’t carelessly bite a human we want to turn, or a human who wants to be turned into a vampire, in your case. If you often watch movies or read books about vampire, you probably know that we bite… the neck. Although many have argued that it’s solely to create an erotic tension for the story, but it’s actually what we’ve been doing… the biting, though, not the erotic part,” Seungri cleared his throat, averting his gaze to his wiggling big toes. “It’s because the purpose is to keep the human alive for the turning to complete; if my purpose was to drain you and let you die, I could bite and tear any part of your body or rip your throat. That’s why my aim is to… drink your blood from your jugular vein. It doesn’t contain blood carrying oxygen, which your body still needs until you’ve successfully turned. And it’s a lot easier to spot the vein when you’re lying on your back.”

“Whoa,” Jiyong chuckled – Seungri could hear the heavy breath and the crack in the voice, yet he kept his finding to himself. “I really had no idea that there was a science behind this.”

A small laughter blew a puff of air out Seungri’s nostril and he felt a light tug on one corner of his mouth. “Well, technically, we have our own science too. And oddities only seem so because we don’t conform with what humans consider rational.”

“Enough… with the talk. I don’t have a hand full of time, Seungri.” The man glanced and Seungri saw the fire had returned. “It’ll be better for you to finish this soon, right?”

“Yeah…”

“So, you’re going to lie on top of me?”

Seungri gave a quick nod. Both of them made a brief eye contact before Jiyong nodded. Only then did Seungri turn sideways, propping himself up using one elbow. Cautiously and quietly, his other hand reached for the other side of empty space next to Jiyong’s head. Eyes were staring at anywhere before him, but Jiyong’s two drops of Apache tears, as he fixed his position. There was no sensation of hot or cold, indeed, yet he knew it was Jiyong’s body under him – he could feel the rapid heartbeat from behind Jiyong’s chest reverberating throughout his own body. “You… well, would you mind if—”

“Do what you find necessary, Seungri,” the man cut, the blaze inside his eyes burnt even brighter.

Seungri muttered under his breath, “Alright… then, tilt your head to your… left?” Jiyong followed his instruction silently, his heart was still beating fast and his neck was open for the vampire. Seungri leaned his head in and exposed his fangs. “This will hurt… a little,” he was unsure, though, “but once my fangs penetrated deeper into your skin and reached the vein, the pain will soon disappear.” His hands moved, now gripping on Jiyong’s bare, tan shoulders firmly. The tip of his tongue licked a small patch of the skin, right at the base of the skull, where the vein he was looking for started. Slowly, he bit into the flesh – Jiyong’s body slightly flinched, but once the blood flowed into Seungri’s mouth, the body under him began to relax.

The taste of Jiyong’s blood was something Seungri couldn’t describe; it was beyond words. The vampire couldn’t even recall the last time he tasted fresh blood straight from the vein – he did once have some pets to provide him an unlimited supply of fresh blood and few offspring of humans he had turned, but it had been too long to remember, even for an immortal creature like him. There was of course a world of difference between the straight-from-the-vein blood and the packaged one – the latter was usually a few days old already at its best, and it was rare to find. Seungri’s best bet was boxed bloods that were no older than a week, and the source wasn’t always… healthy.

Jiyong probably was a man who watched what he ate or didn’t take a lot of oil or fat as part of his diet. Right from the moment when the blood entered his mouth, Seungri could taste the sweetness and, of course, the metallic flavor. There was a hint of bitter, but it was within Seungri’s tolerable level. The vampire didn’t make any effort to suck the stream of blood – he wasn’t going to drain Jiyong, after all – hence he merely wait and wait, letting Jiyong’s heart do the job, pumping the blood, for him.

Under him, Jiyong let out a quiet moan, his body began to shiver. Gently, Seungri loosened one grip from Jiyong’s shoulder so that he could hold the arm firmly instead, preventing the limb from doing something that might interrupt the ritual. Jiyong’s other arm, however, had come up, wrapping around Seungri’s back. The moaning was getting loader, and the noise of one body trying to keep the other one pinned underneath joined it, yet Seungri hadn’t stopped sucking the blood from the vein.

The vampire grunted once he felt the sting of pain on his back. The hand holding Jiyong’s arm trailed down, trying to reach the fingers frantically only to get another pain in his palm. Quickly, Seungri pulled his fangs out and watched the crimson red liquid streaming from the punctures his fangs created. Not wanting to waste it, and probably hoping that he didn’t really have to replace the mattress in the morning, the vampire licked the blood off the neck, not heeding the wounds Jiyong’s newly-formed claws created on his back.

Jiyong’s neck was already clean from all the licking Seungri did when the body under him stopped trembling. The arm on Seungri’s back fell with a quiet thud on the side. Jiyong fell unconscious along with a long sigh escaping his slightly parted lips. Seungri waited until the mark of his bite turning dark reddish-brown first before rolling his body sideways, a long, heavy breath coming out of his open mouth.

He knew better that it was nothing but a void inside the left of his chest, but Seungri rested his right hand on it anyway. His chest moved up and down as the vampire tried to regain his composure and control the pace of his breath. The emptiness of his surrounding welcomed him in a friendly manner. He turned his head sideways and the punctures had become nothing more than black spots on the bronze skin.

Just like the spots on his neck left by his maker.

 

*

 

One of the myths about vampire that weren’t actually myths at all was the aversion towards sunlight. When the darkness wrapped the world and lulled humans to sleep, Seungri greeted the time of the day just like a squirrel finally feeling the warmth of spring’s sun after a long, deep slumber throughout winter. Leaving Jiyong alone in his bedroom, he waltzed down the empty streets illuminated by the city lights. Nothing and nobody to accompany him but the night, just like wherever he had been – Prague, Bali, Auckland, Brisbane, Fairbanks, St. Petersburg, Osaka, Busan, London, Nairobi, or Waikiki.

Given the hours, Seungri had always known that there was nothing much to see, except for the sight of homeless trying their best to shield themselves from the cool spring wind, a drunk man or two throwing up, the glaring light coming from the inside of 24-hour convenience stores, and a few cars passing by. However, Seungri was never the one acting like a tourist sightseeing a city; rather, it was how oddly different the city was once all the hands of a clock pointed certain time as if there were two worlds poles apart to begin with.

Seungri raised his head, sniffing in the air. It smelled different, and he hoped that it was a _good_ kind of different… a _scorching_ kind of different. He also hoped that the war drum would never stop beating (and maybe would somehow reach Seungri’s ears, someday in the future; Seungri didn’t expect a lot, though, knowing that he might be nothing but a vague memory, and the only token to remind _him_ that he existed was the black spots on _his_ neck).

Right before the dawn, a note was what Seungri found, attached to his refrigerator, and he could only produce a laugh once he saw what was inside.

 

**E N D**

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is an experimental part (or a pilot, sort of) for a project/series I'm currently having in my head. Comment and response are always welcomed. Also, apology for tossing some science shits into this obviously-and-purely fiction, but I truly have been wondering why vampires bite the neck.  
> Cross-posted from AFF [[link](https://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/1294129/)]


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